


Match Point (Unforgiven)

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-01
Updated: 2005-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lupin pays Snape one final visit on the night of Snape's execution.</p><p>~9,000 words. NC-17. Major character death. Multiple chess metaphors. Written for the 2005 Snupin Santa exchange. Thanks to Smoke for the beta work. November 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Match Point (Unforgiven)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rexluscus](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rexluscus).



> Written for Rex Luscus at the 2005 Snupin Santa exchange on LJ, who asked for Darkfic for the following scenario: _Snape has been sentenced to be executed for the murder of Dumbledore and other war crimes. Lupin goes to bid him a very conflicted farewell. Take in any direction you want, though sex is highly encouraged. Caveat: no happy endings, sentence being commuted, last-minute rescue, etc. Snape really must die (though not necessarily on-screen)._

_People cry and people moan  
They look for a dry place to call their home  
And try to find some place to rest their bones  
While the angels and the devils  
Fight to claim them for their own  
_

**1\. _J'adoube_**

The first thing Lupin noticed when he walked into Azkaban was the blinding white.

It should have been dark, damp, despondent; he had pictured slime and rotted moss hanging from the walls, strangling vines curling around heavy stones, and a seeping wetness everywhere, penetrating the island fortress with a chilling despair that had nothing to do with the notoriety of its former Dementor guards.

Funny that, how in times of war, in times of crisis and desperation and panic and scapegoating, nothing is ever what it seems.

Nothing.

He stepped from the tiny rowboat and entered the complex with only the most fractional pang of apprehension in his chest. There was still a war on. Traitors had to be punished. The guilty needed to die.

The stark hallways felt like a mental institution from a dystopian novel, like stepping from that dank, rickety rowboat straight into the pages of Zamyatin, or Orwell, or Huxley – with the exception of anything _brave_ or _new_ about it. This was a place for the cowardly, and the old. It was a _world_, though, Lupin would give it that. He had long stopped speaking with adjectives, anyway. Things simply were what they were: table, forest, cage, lips, dead, alive. _World_.

He turned to the man beside him. "Stay here," he ordered, and the man snarled at him, but obeyed. Lupin was in charge now; he gave the commands.

His footsteps echoed down the bare hallway, crisp tiles clacking under him as he passed row after row of solid doors, tiny rectangular windows at eye level the only indication that there might be something – _someone_ – beyond. The shapeless Auror who led him down the hall was not much better than a Dementor, Lupin thought, his mind flashing back to the last time he was here, in a different life, to witness the suffering of a different man sentenced to death. Then, the Dementor's rattling breath had fallen too close to his ear when they stopped, and Lupin had had to force down the chill in his lungs and the fog in his mind that the creature invoked. It wasn't much better with the Auror, he mused now, but that wasn't really the man's fault – Lupin was already haunted by icy memories and that snaking sensation of dread, every single night.

He shouldn't be here. He had to be here. It was too hard, but it would only get worse. He steeled himself.

The Auror gestured at the door in front of them, then pulled out his wand and waved an intricate charm to dispel the locking spells. The solid white of the barrier shimmered with magic for a moment, becoming opal in translucence, and Lupin stepped through it. He heard it solidify again behind him, and he took a deep breath.

The room in which he now found himself had four walls, like most, each equally proportioned. There was no bed, sink, nor toilet. The room was divided by bars, white and glowing. In Lupin's half of the room was a single chair and table, on top of which sat an immaculate white and black chess set. Behind the bars was one more chair, and a man in tattered robes.

"I'm not playing chess with you," Lupin announced, eyeing the board with trepidation.

The man in the chair seemed to relax. "Oh, come now, Lupin – you are here for no other reason."

"I'm here for a lot of other reasons."

"Such as?"

Lupin began to answer, but then cursed under his breath and looked away. Snape knew all the reasons.

"You see?" Snape replied. "None of them matter now. Sit down."

"Snape, look, I–"

"I said, _sit_."

Lupin paused, appraising the man behind the bars. He had changed so much, and so little. His scowl was the same, and the way his left eyebrow sat slightly higher than the right one, especially when his agitation was showing on his face. The curve of his mouth was the same, and the way he tried to use his long hair to cover his face in shadow, even within the blinding light of this windowless cell. Then again, it had only been a week since Lupin had last seen him. A lifetime ago.

He pulled out the chair. "You still think I'll do anything you ask, don't you?" he muttered.

"Yes," Snape replied, "because you will."

"I won't."

"You just did."

"You are going to die in an hour!" Lupin shouted, his patience stretched like skin on bone. "And you're _still_ playing with me?" He turned to the wall and fought for control, glancing back over his shoulder after a moment to find Snape studying him.

"And what is it you would rather I do, Lupin?" he asked softly. "Apologise? You will be waiting a long time."

"No, I know you won't apologise, because you aren't sorry."

"That's not true. I'm sorry for a lot of things."

"Like murder," Lupin shot back, "or like getting caught?"

"No," answered Snape, his face shuttered. "Different things."

Lupin opened his mouth to offer a retort, but closed it again when he found he had none. A long silence passed between them. "All right," Lupin said at last, "then you must be sorry the Dark Lord found you out." The words cut through the air like glass.

"Is that what you're calling him now?" Snape asked, almost sounding amused.

Lupin couldn't reply.

"Tsk tsk," Snape clucked, his gaze menacing. "Sacrificing me for your own gain – never would have thought you were up for it, Lupin. But–" He paused to give a false, oily laugh – "what the Dark Lord wants, the Dark Lord usually gets, isn't that right?"

"You're baiting me," Lupin replied, trying to keep his voice even.

"Perhaps."

"It won't work."

"Glad to hear it."

Lupin shook his head in disbelief. "Snape. The Dark Lord found a stray conversation with Dumbledore in your mind. You're lucky to be here, and not with your head on a pike in his father's graveyard while he continues to Crucio your body."

An unexpected smile curved Snape's thin lips. "Indeed." He glanced around his cell. "_Lucky_, I must be."

"No, just useful," said Lupin.

"As a test."

Lupin nodded. "As a test."

"Then pay attention, Lupin, because he's not very kind to those who fail his tests."

"Ah. And you think I'll fail."

"If you do, I'll kill you myself."

Lupin laughed, rich and sudden. For a moment it was like old times, Snape pestering him with questions and comments just to see how quickly and ably Lupin could fire them back. When he looked up at Snape again, he found the man watching him with a gaze so intense Lupin was forced to drop his eyes. His smile faded at the same time. "No," he began. "No. Look, Snape, I don't _want_–"

"Yes," Snape interrupted. "You do."

They watched each other in silence until Lupin finally nodded. "Yes," he agreed, "I do. We've been lost without Albus – you had no right to take him."

Snape sighed. "Are we really going to go through this again? It's getting rather tiresome."

The rage Lupin always felt when conversations turned to Albus's death boiled up inside him again, threatening to ruin his calm, to ruin everything. He breathed deeply. "Fine." He glanced at the chess board. "You'd really rather spend your final hour with _this?_"

Snape nodded. "It's the game the guilty play to prove their innocence."

"Is that so," Lupin sighed. "Then it's not going to do either of us any good, is it? And anyway, it's Muggle chess."

"You don't know how to play?" Snape raised an eyebrow, and Lupin's breath caught for a moment.

"I know how to play," he replied quietly, his mind drifting to another time and place, but he dragged it back before the longing settled in his chest, and he cast around for another excuse. "You can't get your hands through those bars," he observed. "Can't move your pieces."

Snape made a face, then waved a hand across his chest, smirking when his pawns began shuffling around in response. "I _am_ still a wizard," he retorted, "despite all appearances to the contrary."

Lupin regarded him carefully. "Chess."

"Yes."

"Winner takes all."

"That's right."

"Quite a risk on a night like tonight, Snape. You really think if I lose I'll just convince those executioners to pass you by?"

"You could."

Lupin felt his lungs constrict. He was quiet for a moment. "I know I could."

"Then let's play."

Lupin stared at the board, focusing for a moment on the quivering black and white squares. "No," he said at last, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "There's something else. What did you do?" He raised his eyes to Snape.

But Snape didn't answer. He simply dragged his chair closer to the bars and waved his hand to set the pieces back in order. The stark light in the room seemed to dim as they glared at each other across the board – God and the Devil playing for the souls of the wretched, and for the outcome of a war that wouldn't end. Which of them was which remained a matter yet to be proven, and whether there was room in hell for the Devil to have two servants was a question yet to be answered.

Snape cleared his throat. "Begin."

~~~~~

**2\. Gambit**

The Forbidden Forest was dark that night, but this was nothing new. Darkness was simply who he was, Remus mused as he crept further from the school grounds and into the penetrating shadow of the trees. It followed him everywhere. He slipped easily off the path, his sharpened vision guiding him even without the light from his wand. By the position of the quarter moon in the sky, he calculated that it was nearly midnight. Almost time.

He very much hoped that Snape would show up.

"What do you want, werewolf?" An icy voice cut through the night air as soon as he thought it, and Remus turned towards it, and shiver of expectation and apprehension running down his spine.

"Is that my name now?" he asked softly, brushing the hair from his eyes.

"I don't care what your name is – you don't even deserve a name! You're just an animal."

Remus could see Snape's chest rising and falling rapidly, his wand out and his eyes darting around the surrounding forest. "Put your wand away, Snape," he called. "Do I look like a wolf right now?"

Snape appraised him. "Not like the one I saw in that tunnel, no."

An involuntary twitch started in Remus's right eye at the memory. He squeezed it closed for a moment, rubbing it fiercely, before facing Snape again. "Look, I just wanted to- talk to you- about all that."

"_All that?_" Snape mocked. "All _that_ pesky business with you and your little friends trying to get me killed?"

"That wasn't it."

"That wasn't–?" Snape's eyes widened. "That was _exactly_ it! You could have killed me – bottom line."

"I wouldn't have," Remus insisted.

"You would have! You can't control it." Snape's eyes flashed with indignation.

"Look," Remus sighed. "I'm _sorry_, all right? I- I told Sirius something, and he did that to- I don't know, to teach me a lesson, I suppose." His face shuttered as he suppressed the memory of that conversation with his friend.

"About me," said Snape, and Remus looked up.

"No. Well, I mean, yes, I suppose, since he chose you instead of someone else, but it wouldn't have mattered who it was."

Snape said nothing for a long moment, before finally stepping forward, an odd note in his voice. "You're a werewolf," he repeated.

"I know that."

Snape paused. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't I–" Remus gaped at him for a second, then shook his head. "Why on earth would I tell you that?"

"Because… it's the sort of thing you tell a person…" Snape mumbled the rest of the statement under his breath, and Remus leaned closer, eyebrows raised.

"A person's stocking?" he asked.

"A person you're _snogging_," Snape declared, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

"It's not like I was snogging you at the time."

"At the–" Snape sputtered. "At the _exact_ time? Well no, clearly, because you were too busy being a werewolf at that _exact_ time to be snogging me."

Remus frowned, watching Snape carefully. "Well, what if I snog you now – would that make up for it?"

"No. Sod off." Snape hunched his shoulders and moved away, backing into a nearby tree.

"No. Come here."

"_No!_"

"You're scared of me."

"I'm not."

"I won't bite you."

"You might."

"Snape! Have you really gotten this far at school without learning anything about werewolves? Third year, you idiot – think! What would happen if I bit you right now?"

Snape glared at him, then dropped his eyes to the forest floor. "Same thing that would happen if _I_ bit _you_."

"Ow." Remus smiled at him.

"Yeah. Ow. So don't bite me, all right?"

"God, would you shut up for a second? I need to ask you something."

"I thought we were snogging first."

"You thought–?" Remus paused, shook his head in disbelief, then marched up to Snape, pushing him gently back against the tree and leaning in close. "You think I always do whatever you ask, don't you?" he breathed in Snape's ear, then lifted his hands to frame the other boy's face and kissed him.

It began slowly, like it always did, as though they were still the shy sixth-years who had accidentally brushed too close together in the potions supply cupboard one day and ended up covering each other's lips with shy, experimental kisses. But they both knew they weren't those boys anymore, and the sweet touch of innocent lips soon grew hungrier. They were _men_ now, forced to grow up fast by the shadow of war and the descent of evil times. Remus felt Snape part his lips, their tongues tangling together, the Slytherin serpent and the courageous bloody lion, pressed against a tree in the middle of the Forbidden Forest in May 1978, as if time didn't even matter.

Remus's hands fell to Snape's neck, thumbs still caressing his jaw as their mouths moved together, tasting each other and moaning softly as the scant light from the stars above slanted through the tree tops. He pulled back reluctantly, resting his forehead against Snape's. "I'm sorry you had to find out that way," he whispered.

"Black wanted me dead."

"No," Remus insisted, his fingers in Snape's hair. "He wanted to keep me from – well. He just wanted you to stay away from me. Don't let him win," he added quietly.

"I–"

"_Don't_ let him. Stay with me."

"I- can't." Snape dropped his head and tried to escape Remus's embrace, shuffling around the tree trunk.

"What? No- come back here–" Remus reached out to grab his left arm, his fingers slipping on Snape's robe, and he ended up digging in harder than he meant to, scrambling for purchase against Snape's sleeve. In an instant, Snape cried out in pain, collapsing onto the ground. "Snape!" Remus called irritably. "Come here- what–" Remus dropped to his knees, watching in bewilderment as Snape yanked his arm away, cradling it against his chest.

"_I can't_," Snape repeated, his head turned away from Remus and the shadow of his hair cutting off his features.

Remus sat back on his heels, running a hand over his face and a hundred theories through his head. When he finally landed on the right one, his eyes closed in horror. He reached out to touch Snape's shoulder. "You didn't," he said quietly.

Snape was silent for a moment. "You're a _werewolf_," he said at last. "What did you want me to do?"

"I wanted you to stay with me."

"A house with two kids in the countryside?"

"Snape–"

"You're a _werewolf!_" Snape shouted, then clamped his mouth shut and turned away again.

Remus slumped down against the tree beside Snape, gazing off in a different direction. "And you're a Death Eater," he said dully, feeling a sharp pain settle in behind his eyes.

"The Dark Lord is gathering werewolves," Snape said softly, staring straight ahead.

"I know."

Snape turned to him.

"Dumbledore told me. Thinks I could be useful. That's what I wanted to- ask you."

"No. They'll kill you."

"You could kill me. The Whomping Willow could kill me. A silver tea cup could kill me. What does it matter?"

"You can't do Dumbledore's work. He can't ask that of you."

"And what is it _you're_ doing?"

"I'm brewing potions for a lot of money. It's not the same thing."

Remus let his head fall back against the tree. "I want to join the werewolves. That's what I tried to tell Sirius, and he – well. Didn't think it was a good idea."

It seemed clear to Remus that Snape was fighting very hard not to state out loud that Sirius was right. "Greyback's in charge," he said instead. "He'll make you kill people."

"No, Snape," Remus continued in earnest, ignoring him. "They'll know what it's like. They'll be able to see the things I see, and smell the things I smell, and I won't have to hide anything from them – I won't have to hide _anything_ anymore. And we'll transform together, and help each other." He leaned against the tree and gazed up at the stars.

Snape was quiet for a moment. "You'd really leave your friends?"

"Maybe." Remus pulled his knees up to his chest. "They don't really understand me anymore."

"And who does?"

Remus turned towards Snape. "You do," he said, his voice even, and he believed it. "You always did."

"No," Snape corrected him, "I never did, and I never will. You think those werewolf packs are some sort of support group? Sooner or later, you'll end up killing someone."

"Maybe it'll be someone who deserves to die."

Snape gaped at him. "And how would you know who deserved to die?"

"I'd know."

"You've lost your mind."

"I'm _tired_, Snape," Remus said, slouching against the tree and letting his limbs scatter on the forest floor. "I'm so tired of it all. There has to be something out there for me, more than this."

He felt Snape slacken beside him and heard the resigned _thud_ of the back of Snape's head hitting the tree. "Yeah," Snape whispered. "I know. If–" He paused. "If I can help- you know, maybe we can- well." Silence lingered for a long minute before Snape continued. "I would, you know."

"I know."

And with those words, Remus knew that Snape understood. The pull of darkness was intoxicating, the chance to be in the majority for once, with others who felt the pain you felt, every time a new moon rose or a forearm burned. There was a place for them both, on the other side, where the wind blew colder but the shadow that embraced you was warm like a black sun. Neither he nor Snape needed a support group; they needed _allies_, because they were young, intelligent, and had never felt more alone in the world.

On the floor of the forest, Remus slid his hand over the prickly grass until he met Snape's. Their fingers curled together as they each gazed up at the sky, their entire lives about to change forever.

~~~~~

"Still the stupidest thing you've ever done, joining the werewolves."

"Or, conversely, the smartest. Where would you be now if I hadn't?"

Snape looked up from the board. "_Alive_," he sneered.

Lupin's heartbeat paused. "Don't do that," he said quietly, closing his eyes. "Don't you _dare_–"

"All right, all right. No rhetorical questions, no rhetorical answers."

"Fine. Your move."

Snape glanced down again.

"And you're right – it _was_ stupid. I'd do anything to take it back."

"Don't get maudlin on me, Lupin – this trip down memory lane you insist on isn't a picnic for me, either."

"_You_ insisted on it," Lupin corrected him, "and if you don't want to do it, then why are we bothering?"

"We have an hour to kill."

Lupin glared. "Your puns are getting worse and worse."

"Good thing you won't have to hear them much longer."

"Goddammit, Snape!" Remus jumped up from his chair and threw the table over, chess pieces flying across the floor. "I can't _do this_." He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes closed. "Albus would _never_ have–"

"Remus," Snape said softly, watching through the glowing bars from his perch on his chair. "_Please_." He glanced at the toppled chessboard.

"I'm allowed to say no."

"No, you aren't."

"You told me something once, about choice. That's what that memory was for, wasn't it? I chose this. I know that." Lupin took a deep breath, as though the very procedure of filling his lungs with air would also steel his spine.

"Then pick up the board," replied Snape, his inveterate calm like nails on a blackboard to Lupin's nerves.

It was too late to turn back now. Lupin waved a hand at the board and the pieces where they lay sprawled, surprised and angry, on the cool tile floor. In a flash they sailed through the air and reassembled at Lupin's last move, the stark black and white of the painted stone seeming to gaze up at him in mockery. He watched Snape carefully as the man made his next move.

~~~~~

**3\. Castled**

"You killed my best friend."

Snape opened one eye and rolled it towards Lupin. "Sort of," he agreed, "but you knew that was coming." He closed the eye again and turned over, trying and failing to disentangle the sheets from around his legs. "Bloody freezing in this hellhole, Lupin, how do you sleep here?"

"I have fur," Lupin retorted, sprawled on his back with one hand covering his face – though whether in shame, regret, or just fatigue, he couldn't say. "And I didn't know it was coming."

"Not now. I'm tired."

"You weren't too tired to fuck."

"You weren't talking so much then."

"You _killed_ my best friend!"

Snape sighed, then threw the covers away from his upper body and turned to face Lupin. "Perhaps you've missed the Dark Mark on my arm all these years," he hissed. "I kill people, remember?"

"Why him?" Lupin had moved the hand to his forehead now, freeing his eyes to stare at the blank ceiling. He should have had sharper instincts, to foresee Snape's next move. He didn't, however, and in a split second Snape had shifted his body up and grabbed Lupin's wrists above his head.

"Because he hexed my pants off at school." Snape's eyes glinted in the dark. "You fool – I didn't choose him! When the Dark Lord has a target, and gives an order, you do not disobey. Potter was marked, simple as that."

"Let me go."

"No."

"Then tell me why you're here."

Lupin felt sick at the way Snape's face twisted into a grin. "_Trick or treat_," Snape snarled.

"That's not funny."

Snape released his hold and fell back against a grimy pillow. "You're mistaken, Lupin. It's very funny."

"Dumbledore was here, just before you."

"So? Did you fuck him, too?"

Lupin turned his head slowly, mouth open. "_Why_," he whispered, "are you here?"

"Dumbledore must have told you why."

"He just said you might need somewhere, for a few days, until he can get you to Hogwarts. Make sure Vol–" He grimaced – "is really gone."

"Then there's your answer."

Lupin suddenly sat up, squinting at Snape through the dark. "I know why you're here," he replied, waving his hand around the room before jabbing an index finger down onto the mattress. "But I don't know why you're _here_."

Snape laughed, oily and dark. "I go where spread legs invite me in, Lupin, you know that. And it's been a long night. Thought you'd at least be good for a blow job."

Lupin stared at him for another moment, then _pounced_, clawing the sheets away and straddling Snape's hips, pinning his arms down before pausing on top of him. His breath came out in staccato grunts as he bore down on Snape. "All you've ever done is fuck with me," he snarled.

"That's why you come to me," replied Snape, calm even in the face of his trapped position.

Suddenly consumed by a rage he couldn't control, Lupin brought his hand back and swung hard, his flat palm making a sickening sound as it connected with the side of Snape's face. "Don't fool yourself," he spat. "I come to you because no one else will have me – same reason you come to me."

Snape's eyes flashed then as he recovered from the blow, his jaw open in disbelief. His calm morphed instantly into struggle. He fought against Lupin's restraining hands, kicking in an effort to bring his knees up to wedge between Lupin's legs and throw him off. "Let- me- _up_," he ordered.

"No!" Lupin shouted. "You're not leaving me now, you're _not_–" He released Snape's hands only to use his own to begin attacking the other man's arms and chest with punishing fists.

Snape winced in pain, struggling to grab Lupin's wrists and stop the assault.

The room narrowed only to the black shadows on the wall opposite the window, two vaguely human shapes tearing at each other as the shadows bled together, then separated again, echoing like a violent _danse macabre_ against the cold wall.

Lupin couldn't stop; his blood raced as he pounded his fists into Snape, cursing him and punishing him for everything Lupin had lost. "_I can't… I can't… I can't_…" he heard himself chanting, and in a moment of weakness, as he relented on the assault just a fraction of a second, Snape grabbed his wrists and flung him off, scrambling to sit up as his eyes flashed with fury.

"You will _never_ understand what I've had to do!" Snape thundered, shoving Lupin so hard in the chest that he almost toppled backwards off the bed. He advanced on Lupin then, pressing his advantage and clawing at the pale skin as he moved closer. Finally, he yanked a hand into Lupin's hair and forced his gaze, desperation in his dark eyes, and before Lupin could react, Snape crushed their mouths together.

It was hate, and salt, and darkness, and Lupin felt a stabbing of revulsion throughout his body at the evil inside him that would _fuck_ this man and call it inevitable. He parted his lips to let Snape in but fought with him for every breath, grunting with hate and need and none of the resignation of an hour ago, when Snape had first shown up on Lupin's doorstep and bent him over the bed. It was past midnight now, it was November first, and a new day was dawning. Everything was different from what it had been an hour ago, or two, or especially six.

His tongue thrust into Snape's mouth as he felt the other man retreat, and Lupin pushed his claim, raking his fingers through Snape's hair as he devoured Snape's mouth, hungry and hateful and angrier with every bite and lick. Snape groaned, scratching nails down Lupin's chest as he fought his mouth, Lupin's lips beginning to bruise.

Lupin broke it off abruptly and sat panting, entranced by Snape's wild look, before pushing a palm flat against Snape's chest and shoving him, hard, back down onto the bed.

Snape stopped fighting, lying on his back with his swollen lips and bruised chest and a murderous scowl on his face. Lupin fell on top of him in another fit of rage and passion, searching in Snape's lips, and Snape's body, for his misplaced youth – for everything he had lost in life. He reached a hand down and yanked hard on Snape's cock, quickly stroking it to hardness with his rough hand, while his mouth travelled to Snape's neck and bit down.

Snape arched into him in pain and anger, renewing his struggle by kicking his legs and knocking Lupin's hand away from his cock. He reached between them for Lupin's cock instead, and Lupin drew a sharp breath at the rough contact of Snape's fist squeezing him. "You think fucking me will help, do you?" Snape snarled. "Go on, then, you stupid _beast_."

Infuriated, Lupin bit down hard on a nipple, then grabbed Snape's hand away from his cock. In a swift movement, he locked Snape's arms at his sides and bent his head, taking Snape's cock into his mouth and sucking with quiet fury. He let his teeth scrape more than usual, ignoring the way Snape's hips twisted in an effort to get away. He released Snape's arms for a moment before planting one hand on the man's chest for leverage, and wrapping the other around Snape's cock to assist his ravaging mouth.

It was too big, choking him as he took it in, rough on his tongue and nauseating on his heightened senses. He didn't want this, but he _needed_ it, and only Snape would ever understand the difference. He laved and sucked, testing just how long he could block his own air passage with Snape's cock before he needed to draw back, coughing and shaking.

Snape arched silently when he came, clawing at the sheets and suppressing a throaty groan, and Lupin's cock throbbed from the feel of Snape filling his mouth. He moved back a bit and spat into his hand, eyes raised to Snape, fury on fury, then slicked his fingers, running them over his own cock and across Snape's entrance. Snape watched with parted lips and a heaving chest, but did not stop him, not even when Lupin wasted no time folding his knees up and sinking into his body, inch by tearing inch.

It was hot inside Snape, and claustrophobic, and wrong and dangerous and liberating like low tide. But it was also rough, and brutal, and punishing, because he had no time for romance or niceties, not on a night like tonight, not when he didn't want to be alive, and this was the only way to feel as though he was.

He shoved in hard, Snape grabbing his hips and pulling at him, shouting at him about never understanding, never being good enough or hard enough to do the jobs that really needed to be done. He gripped Snape's legs and pushed them up higher, leaving bruises until his fingers shook from the pressure. His cock felt like lead, heavy and anchored where it slid in and out of Snape's body, as though each stroke was tied to a Time Turner that could go back months – maybe years was what they needed – and if only he _pushed_ hard enough, he could erase everything that had happened.

His orgasm was shuttered in darkness, like a shadow falling blunt across his mind as his body released, and he blindly grabbed what was underneath him and clenched fingers into skin. He heard Snape whispering and felt him moving, and only then did he open his eyes, unsure of what he saw in Snape's eyes apart from the loss and the confusion and the bitterness that mirrored his own.

He collapsed onto Snape's chest in a fit of exhaustion, suddenly unsure he would ever move again, and was surprised to find warm hands on his back, soothing patterns shaped there by flat, dry palms. The sob that left his throat came unexpectedly, and he was appalled at himself for not concealing it, but after a moment that didn't even matter because another followed it, and another, and he couldn't have stopped his heaving lungs unless he tied the bed sheet around his neck and suffocated himself.

Snape's breath on his cheek was warm and soothing, as though his fury was finally spent as well. "We shouldn't do this when we're angry," he said quietly, his voice low in Lupin's ear.

Lupin stifled another sob, which came out like more of a hiccup and a cough. He pulled back to look at Snape, tracing the line of his jaw with shaking fingertips. "I'm never anything _but_ angry with you," he replied, then dropped his head down again to burrow in Snape's neck.

"I know," said Snape, stroking Lupin's hair. "If I told you," he continued in a halting tone, "that you need to get away from me for awhile, that I need to go where Dumbledore puts me now and you can't follow – would you do it?"

"I'd do anything you ask, you know that," replied Lupin at once, his voice soft. "That's why I'm always so angry with you."

He heard Snape smile. "I know that, but what if- you have to want to do it, too. It has to be your choice, not just something I tell you to do."

Lupin pushed himself up again and regarded Snape. "You can't make choices in war, Snape – you can only follow directions. Rule number one."

"No." Snape shook his head. "If that's your rule, you need to change it – now. With an enemy like the Dark Lord, you need to be able to follow an order, but also to know why you're following it – _choose_ to follow it."

"That's totally contradictory."

"No, it's not."

"Fine. Then I _choose_ to get the hell away from you, and the sooner the better."

Snape looked shell-shocked for a moment, but recovered before Lupin could comment. "Good," he replied softly. "Indecision is weakness, Lupin, remember that."

Lupin snorted and shook his head, then rolled over and pushed himself off the bed. He searched the floor for his clothes, plucking various items as his rational mind began to whir again. "God, it's quarter to one," he muttered, glancing at a clock. "Got to find Peter and Sirius, got to make sure they're all right… why aren't they here, anyway… Dumbledore… got to ask him… the spy – need to find out…"

He finished dressing and ran a hand through his hair, then paused and glanced back at Snape, still naked and tangled in the sheets. For a long moment they just watched each other, images running through Lupin's head of sweat and sex and potions and hidden meeting points and spies and enemies and soldiers and forest floors and the red that blotted Snape's lips after a thorough kiss, and he dropped his eyes to the floor, gulping for air.

"Indecision is weakness," Snape repeated, his voice a hoarse whisper, and Lupin looked up again to find Snape's head turned the other way.

"_Go_."

~~~~~

"You can't possibly remember that."

"Why not? It wasn't exactly just any random night."

"Then you should have suppressed that memory years ago."

"Your move, Snape. And I think there were other memories more worthy of suppressing than that one."

Snape glanced down at the board, a frown creasing his face. "That one," he muttered, "reveals that you and I were together that night. It would be dangerous in the hands of the enemy." He continued to study the board.

"The enemy?" Lupin leaned forward. "And just who might that be?" He glared at Snape, silently willing him to meet his gaze. After a long moment, he did, raising his head to fix Lupin with a blank expression.

He swallowed and nodded. "You're getting better at this, I'll give you that."

"Don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"No, you don't."

"Are you going to move, or am I wasting my time?" Lupin sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

Snape held his gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching, then barely glanced down as he plucked his rook from the board and slid it over to the spot occupied by one of Lupin's knights.

Lupin stared at the board. "We've been over that," he said quietly. "Don't make me do it again."

"You'll need to do it every day, for the rest of your life, Lupin, don't you understand that yet? After tonight, they will _always_ ask you about it. How you captured the _murderer_, Severus Snape."

Lupin was surprised at how easily Snape's tongue slid over those words, and that name, but he shouldn't have been. Snape was a shield, a fortress, and what was it the ancient Greeks used to say? You either return with your shield, or on it.

The ancient Greeks never had to fight an enemy like Voldemort.

~~~~~

**4\. Endgame**

"The defence calls Nymphadora Tonks to the stand."

An oppressive hush fell over the courtroom as the young Auror with short, spiky hair made her way to the front of the vast chamber, seating herself in front of the Wizengamot. Lupin watched her carefully, knowing exactly what she would say, and what he would have to do to fix it.

"Nymphadora Tonks," the faceless solicitor began, "you have been summoned to testify on behalf of the defendant, Severus Snape, who stands before the Wizengamot accused of the murder of Albus Dumbledore one year ago, and a long list of other war crimes. What say you on his behalf?"

"It's not true, sir – he's not guilty. We all thought he was, for a long time, you know, but now we understand he had to do it."

"Who is 'we,' Auror Tonks?"

"Oh. Um…"

"Are you speaking of Dumbledore's 'Order of the Phoenix'?"

Tonks looked startled.

"The Wizengamot is well aware of this rebel group, Auror Tonks. You are under oath to speak the full truth, as you know it."

"Right." She took a deep breath. "Well, we knew Snape was working for You-Know-Who, but we thought he was also working for us, but then he- he _killed_ Albus–" She stumbled over the words, pausing to bite her lip – "and well, then we thought he must have been fooling us, and was really a loyal Death Eater all along."

"And now you and your colleagues claim to have changed your mind. Has Mr. Snape or any of the Death Eaters threatened you?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "Nothing of the sort. In fact–" She paused to glance over at Snape, sitting stone-faced in the prisoner's box – "he's made it clear that he didn't want me testifying today, or any of us." She waved vaguely at the other Order members, seated at the front of the gallery.

"And why do you think that is?"

She sighed. "His cover's blown. With You-Know-Who." She turned to face the Wizengamot. "He needs your protection! You can't execute him – you've got it all backwards! Albus _ordered_ his own death – it wasn't Snape's fault!"

Lupin glanced at Snape as Tonks continued her plea for his innocence. The prisoner sat impassively, his face shuttered, but a single vein pulsed hotly at his temple. Lupin narrowed his eyes. After several more minutes of Tonks's chatter, the solicitor dismissed her and called Shacklebolt to the stand.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, you have been summoned to testify on behalf of the defendant, Severus Snape, who stands before the Wizengamot accused of the murder of Albus Dumbledore one year ago, and a long list of other war crimes. What say you on his behalf?"

"Auror Tonks is correct. This testimony places Snape at great risk, however, and we ask the Wizengamot to release him into Auror custody until the war is over, for his own protection."

One by one, half a dozen Order members and Hogwarts faculty took the stand, each repeating Tonks's assertion that Snape had been operating on Dumbledore's orders, and for the good of Harry Potter and the resistance, when he murdered Dumbledore. Lupin glanced discreetly over his shoulder at a disguised man in the back row, blond hair hidden under an unremarkable cloak, and inclined his head just slightly, a token two centimetres. This would be reported back to those in charge. There were accusations of disloyalty on the line.

Lupin's stomach rolled over as he listened, his face feeling flushed and increasingly green as each witness paraded evidence of Snape's alleged _innocence_ before the panel. _Idiots_, the lot of them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they called his name.

"The defence calls… no, wait–" The solicitor shuffled his parchment. "There's been a mistake – this witness has been moved to the prosecution's list! But–"

The prosecutor rose. "We informed the defence of this change several days ago, judges," he said smoothly. "It is not our responsibility if the defence cannot keep its paperwork in order."

A strained bout of laughter rose up from the gallery, but quickly died as the prosecutor continued. "If the defence has no further witnesses, then, we shall proceed with our own."

The Wizengamot members mumbled to one another, then nodded. "Very well," the Chief Warlock called out. "Prosecutor, you may proceed."

"Thank you, sir." The prosecutor turned to face the gallery as the defence solicitor slumped back into his chair, his face white. "The prosecution calls Remus J. Lupin to the stand."

A collective gasp rose from the gallery, and Lupin had to steel himself against lashing out at them as he made his way to the front of the courtroom. _Fools_, the thought to himself. _As if Severus Snape could possibly be innocent_.

"Remus Lupin, you have been summoned here today to give evidence against the defendant, Severus Snape. Now," the prosecutor sneered, "my colleague has been under the impression that you would be testifying for him today – why is that?"

"Well," Lupin began, glancing at Tonks apologetically, "like those who have testified on the defendant's behalf, I too was fooled at one time into believing that Snape was innocent."

A new round of hushed muttering erupted in the gallery, silenced only by the Chief Warlock's gavel.

"At one time?" the prosecutor pressed. "But no longer. What changed your mind?"

"I took the blinders off and realised that the evidence just doesn't hold up," he began, gesturing to the Wizengamot in earnest. "Why on earth would Albus Dumbledore order his own death? He was still a healthy man, and an absolutely crucial leader in our efforts against the Dar- _You-Know-Who_. He _knew_ there was no one else capable of leading the Order of the Phoenix, and no one else capable of protecting Hogwarts so completely – sorry, Minerva," he added, inclining his head to the thin-lipped witch in the front row of the gallery.

"Well, this is precisely what we thought," one of the elderly witches on the panel piped up, nodding her head. "Exactly why we tracked him down and arrested him – _no reason_ Albus would do something like this."

"Exactly," Lupin agreed. "Not to mention that Snape's track record regarding looking out for Order members is extremely suspicious. He has been highly antagonistic towards me, for instance, costing me my job at Hogwarts several years ago; he led the recently exonerated Sirius Black to his death two years ago; he has undermined the work of Auror Tonks by belittling her magical abilities and her appearance–"

"But Mr. Lupin," the elderly witch interrupted, "you lost your job at Hogwarts because you are a werewolf, is that correct?"

Lupin paused. "That is correct."

"And rumour has it, Mr. Lupin," the defence solicitor added, rising from his table, "that you are currently working with the criminal Fenrir Greyback and the werewolf packs, against the Ministry of Magic!"

"No," Lupin replied calmly, "that is untrue. I did briefly join the packs in my youth, during the First War, but never again. I don't make the same mistake twice."

"Indeed." The prosecutor stopped pacing in front of Lupin and crossed his arms. "You are giving very damning testimony today, Mr. Lupin," he said, Lupin's stomach twisting at the way the man's eyes danced with glee. "Tell us plainly: why do you want Severus Snape executed?"

"I simply want justice for Albus Dumbledore," he replied quietly. "He was a good man, and this war is all but lost without him. Snape wormed his way into Dumbledore's confidence, then betrayed him." He glanced over at Snape, catching his gaze and holding it. "Traitors must be punished."

The buzz of the courtroom swallowed him after that, and Lupin couldn't remember what more was said. A gavel banged somewhere on the blurry edges of his mind, voices shouted, and verdicts rang in his ears.

_The question of whether or not Albus Dumbledore died at the hand of Severus Snape has never been argued – whether or not Severus Snape acted altruistically, or with evil intent, is impossible to determine, and is ultimately irrelevant to this verdict. Since both sides agree that the murder was committed by Severus Snape, the Wizengamot shall accept the testimony of Remus J. Lupin, and declare Severus Snape guilty of all crimes for which he stands accused. Execution will take place this Saturday night, eight p.m., at Azkaban prison. As the Wizengamot wishes this matter over and done with as quickly and quietly as possible, no members of the public will be permitted to attend…_

Lupin did not look at Snape as he filed out of the courtroom, did not look at the hooded blond man with the expensive family seal embroidered into his leather gloves who nodded with approval, and did not look at Tonks as she grabbed his arm to press for an explanation. He pushed through the crowd and Disapparated as quickly as he could, landing on his knees in a distant forest, where he bent over and threw up until his mind went blank.

~~~~~

**5\. Checkmate**

The air in the white room lurched like invisible lava as Lupin breathed deeply, feeling his lungs burn with the fumes. If only he could figure out what the burn was, and what it all meant – heartache, fear, regret, courage, _I can't do this You have to Don't make me Indecision is weakness No It's only you now god Severus_… He stared hard at the board, black and white checks blurring his vision.

"I'm done playing," he said at last, readying himself for Snape's retort.

"We're not done until someone wins."

"I said I'm done now."

"You haven't won yet."

"Are you morally obliged," Lupin sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes, "to make this as difficult for me as possible?"

"If you want to put it that way."

"You want me to hate you."

"No, you already do."

"I don't."

"You _must_." Snape's glittering dark eyes frightened him for a moment. "When you walk out that door," he said carefully, "you _must hate me_ – do you understand?"

"You're sure doing everything you can to get me there."

"Good." Snape paused, a shadow creasing his face as he gazed evenly at Lupin. "Remember how I killed all your friends," he began, enunciating every syllable. "Potter. And Lily. And Black. Remember how I made young Mr. Potter's life so miserable. Remember, Lupin, how I got you fired, telling the Slytherins you are a werewolf." He leaned in closer. "How I tried to keep Tonks away from you."

Lupin swallowed, shaking his head. "She doesn't matter anymore."

"She – ah."

"I never wanted her anyway, you know that."

"But I was a wanted murderer."

"Yes."

"You never wanted me, either – remember that."

Lupin raised his eyes, staring at Snape for a long moment before pushing down his nausea and nodding. "Nope. You were a decent fuck, nothing more."

"Nothing more," Snape repeated softly. "And Lupin? Don't forget my most important crime."

Lupin watched him expectantly.

"I killed Albus."

Darkness descended, the shadow that was all around him lately, seeping in through his pores and choking him until he bent over double, spitting black and coal. So this was what Snape felt like, all those years. It was terrifying, and liberating, and suffocating, and upside down and counter-intuitive in every possible way, except for the ways that it wasn't. Except for the ways in which it made a frightening amount of sense. There was only one person left who could give Harry his chance.

Lupin gestured at the board. "We playing, or what?" he said roughly, narrowing his eyes at Snape. "Your move."

It was nearly over; they both knew that. The few remaining pieces littered the board as though casually discarded there, as though they meant nothing. The memories held within had offered sustenance, however, and a road map, for those lost and starving on a journey no man should ever have to undertake. Lupin would never understand how he had come to be that man, or how Snape had let him, but it was too late now, too late for all the wondering and questioning and regret. It was too late for everything.

As the final pieces moved into place, with his hand and then Snape's reaching out and lifting rooks and pawns and knights that felt as heavy as iron bolts, Lupin noticed the formerly shimmering and blurred black and white squares moving solidly into focus. Memory dimmed as reality emerged. No. God, not yet.

He watched the board with slowly dawning horror, tempered by a nauseating feeling of satisfaction, as Snape withdrew his hand after making his last move. Snape never threw a game, not even on a night like tonight. Lupin reached out slowly, refusing to meet Snape's eyes as the gravity of the result sunk in, and slid his last bishop four squares over, directly in line with Snape's king. He let his forefinger and thumb linger for a moment on the piece, then brought both hands back to rest on his knees, leaning forward. "Checkmate," he announced quietly.

Snape raised his eyes. "Finish it, then."

Wiping a hand across his mouth and glancing back at the board, Lupin reached out again and grasped the bishop. He dragged it across the board, knocking Snape's king over and squeezing his eyes closed at the sound it made as it fell.

Snape sat motionless as Lupin rose from his chair.

"Guard!" he called over his shoulder, his eyes not leaving Snape. "It's time."

The Auror appeared a moment later, sliding through the magical barrier of the cell door and eyeing the board with interest.

Snape stood then, at last, towering behind the bars like a blackened angel with neither wings, nor a soul. He still said nothing.

"This is it, Snape," Lupin called, backing towards the door as the guard moved forward. "This good wizard will guard you for a moment while I just step outside to call the executioners, what do you think of that?"

"Remus…" Snape whispered at last, his face entombed in pale light.

"Unless you'd rather repent all your crimes – there's still time, you know. I'm the only one who can save you, Snape."

"Remus, _please_…"

"It was my testimony that put you here, and I can recant it just as easily, you know." His voice shook. "Last chance, Snape."

"Remus!" Snape thundered, his calm disappearing at last as his visceral anger poured from his body in palpable waves. "_Please!_"

The plea echoed through the blinding cell, the sound vibrating off the walls as Lupin gave Snape one last hard stare. "I hate you, Severus Snape," he spat. "I've never hated anyone _but_ you, my entire life. I hated you when I was sixteen, I hated you when I was twenty-one, I spent twelve years after Godric's Hollow wandering the world doing nothing but _hate you_, and I hate you so fucking much right now I think I'm going to be sick. Hear that? So fuck you. And let me hear you beg one more time."

Snape's chest was heaving as he watched Lupin, but he wouldn't meet the man's eyes. His anger evidently spent, he now stood impassively, arms hanging at his sides. "Please," Snape said simply, in a calm and even tone.

Lupin nodded. "Right, then." He turned on his heel and slid through the wavering barrier of Snape's door, passing the executioners in the hallway. "It's time," he muttered to them, inclining his head back towards Snape's cell. "He's a murderer. No mercy."

They swept past him and into the cell, as Lupin hurried down the hall, desperate to get outside, to gulp in fresh air. But they were too quick. He had barely rounded the corner to the next hallway when he heard a pierced, abbreviated scream, and a loud _thud_. His fingertips went numb, his mind fogged, and his knees gave out. He fell to the floor, struggling to breathe, blackness descending.

_Unforgiven_.

No. There was still work to do, to make all of this matter.

He got to his feet, never again remembering how he did it, and staggered towards the door of the fortress. He righted his robes and ran a hand over his face, steeling his features in place and pushing it all down, down, to a place he would never visit again, never think of again, at least not until this war was over, and Harry had won. What was one more death, after so many already, if it gave Harry one last insider – one last chance?

Lupin pushed the great door open, shrugging off the Aurors that followed him, and descended the staircase to the dock. A big, burly man with hunched shoulders and a grizzled, furred face turned to him, eyes wild.

"So," the man snarled, baring yellow teeth to Lupin, "was the Dark Lord right about you, Lupin, or did you have the balls for this after all?"

"The Dark Lord knows well who he can trust, and who he cannot, Greyback," Lupin said calmly. "Severus Snape was a spy, and a traitor."

"Same could be said of you."

Lupin paused. "The Dark Lord accepts my loyalty," he said quietly, "especially now."

"It's done, then?"

"Get in," Lupin muttered, gesturing at the boat. He clapped the man on the back and looked out over the black water, ignoring the cold seeping into his heart and the hate cementing in his veins. "Yes," he confirmed, "it is done."

 

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> The white prison cell, and the chess, is obviously inspired by a similar scene between Ian McKellan and Patrick Stewart in the film _X-Men 2_. Used as an added homage to Rexluscus, who I know is an X-Men fan. :)
> 
> The epigraph (epitaph?) is from the Meat Puppets song, "Lake of Fire."
> 
> The segment headings are chess terms, in case that wasn't obvious, and mean the following:  
> _J'adoube_: From the French, "I adjust." A player says "_J'adoube_" as the international signal that he or she intends to adjust the position of a piece on the board without being subject to the touched piece rule (in which a player who touches a piece with at least one legal move is obliged to move that piece).  
> Gambit: A chess opening in which something is sacrificed in order to achieve a better position. (Yes, also an X-Men reference, but an unintentional one).   
> Castling: A special chess move involving the king and either rook, in which the king moves two squares towards a rook, then moves the rook onto the square over which the king crossed.  
> Endgame: The stage of the game when there are few pieces left on the board.  
> Checkmate: A position in which a player's king is in check and the player has no legal move (he or she cannot move out of check). A player whose king is checkmated loses the game.  
> Definitions courtesy of Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chess_terminology)


End file.
